The photograph
by Wolfpup the Great
Summary: "I felt a dagger slice through my heart..."


_2009: "7. Write a short story in which a photograph, or a set of photographs, plays an important part in the plot."_

The light summer breeze swept down the shady alleyway, towered over by abandoned shop fronts and depreciated apartments. Only a hand full sill had glass windows intact. Many were like spiderwebs, cracks spreading out from one central point. like a web, they were fragile too. One slight vibration of an on going truck on the busy main street will lead it to fall to pieces. Just like the many optimistic people that once inhabited these suburbs all that time ago.

Sitting here in one of the dusty alleyways, I lift my heavy head, long dark locks blocking my vision,and concentrate on one of the windows left untouched. It was a strange sight to see. The midday sun glisten through dust that had lay to rest on the glass plain. It looked resilient. A defying force among all the chaos. It had been the looking glass of fearful innocent eyes observing the horrors below on the cobble stone street. Dried blood sill stained the caverns between the stones, like a river of blood seeping from the ileum and arteries of the so-called 'brave heroes'. I strongly believe that bravery and stupidity are much the same thing.

The comforting 'mew' broke me away from my thoughts. I looked before me to see the yellow eyes of a dark furred cat. She was my only companion now, but even then she didn't linger too long. Her bright eyes drifted to the pocket of my tattered dark grey coat; it was once a pale green. I shifted from my slouched position and grasped the cold ball of frayed tissue. As I unwrapped the little treasure chest I could see her eyes slowly flood with hunger and delight. Her paws lifted in irregular movements as she grew ecstatic. I tossed the small clump of raw meat in front of me. I wouldn't let her wait any longer.

As the greedy kitten turned into a brutal wolf, tearing the small portion of thigh like it was a live animal, I emptied out the other contents of my pocket. An old Nokia, a handful of worthless coins with impressions of the past and a folded piece of plastic I found fluttering in the gentle wind. The phone hadn't worked for months, but I stilled hugged it to my ear with that lasting hope that one day I'll hear a confused "hello?" on the other coins no longer had any value. Most of what people had was burned, like after World War One in Germany. A society once centered around every last penny, now wise enough to realize that still having oxygen rushing through your lungs was priceless.

The plastic wasn't that important to me. It just acted as the shield of the precious memories held within the slim sheet. I gingerly peeled away the plastic to reveal two smiling faces staring back at me, four green kaleidoscopes of eyes filled with childish glee. I felt a dagger slice straight through my heart and a lump formed in my throat. Those moments seemed like a distant memory from another life. That life was once mine. That carefree, exciting life now lay on this very street, buried under the dagged glass, like razors slitting my wrists every time I helplessly reached out to it, to them. This is my life has come to and I must accept that.

Yet there was still that familiar twinge deep in my belly that still could not, would not, let go. Slowly the twinge would spread through the mucus layer of my stomach, storming through my cells into my veins, controlling my whole body. My eyes had never left their's. I'd give anything to hear that childish giggle escaping her innocent lips, or to touch her her soft skin again and trace my fingertips over the maze of freckles sprinkled over her cheeks. The little girl had her eyes, green as the crisp sprigs fields she used to explore. I watched her dark curls wave behind her. I hadn't returned to these fields but I know they are a lost memory now.

The cat had gone now after finishing her feast. Not even a spot of blood remained, like she was never there, A figment of my desperate imagination taunting me. She had always wanted a cat. A black one with white paws like petite socks. She would have named it Diamond, sitting in the ruff amongst all the ginger and tabby kittens pouncing for attention. Diamond would have been a quiet cat. She wouldn't bring gifts of bird wings and shredded shrews to the back door. She would have slept beside the child in her pink fluffy blanket, occasionally opening her right eye to watch as the child's belly slowly rose and fell with every delicate breath.

I had said no. I said it every single time, yet she stayed determined everyday. I don't know how I was able to look into her bright green eyes and say the word so loosely. I would have cherished the moment of I knew what the future had to hold. I would have hesitated a moment longer as I stood on the sleek front step outside the front door. I would have taken the time to observe the shade of green her eyes were, the way her locks framed her tanned face from days spent out in those fields. They were filled with castles and fairies in her youthful imagination. I would have gazed a moment longer at the woman standing behind her in pale blue slippers that complemented her blonde mess of hair carelessly tied back in a ponytail. I would have noticed the way the stray wisps stuck out perpendicularly to her scalp. Her piercing green eyes staring right into my blue. Maybe I would have said yes that day, just to see her face wash over with a wave of happiness like it was Christmas morning.

But those days were long gone now. A forgotten memory in this destroyed town.

That was when I let it go into the wind.

The End.


End file.
